


Oath on Skin

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Deep throat, M/M, NSFW, blowjob, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiel PWP. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oath on Skin

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for [secretbraintwin](secretbraintwin). <3

“I want you.” 

Dean guessed there were scarier words in the English language, but there weren’t many that he could think of. Especially when they were coming from a guy who had the charm and suaveness of a wet noodle. Then again, Castiel’s lack of experience was kind of cute, in a way. Dean liked the way his eyes flicked around the room and his teeth nibble his bottom lip and his feet shifted under him. 

He was probably being kind of cruel, just standing there, saying nothing, taking a little pleasure in Castiel’s discomfort. But hell, he’d been through a lot lately, and he had to take his pleasure wherever he could find it. That was when Dean realized he could actually be taking a very literal kind of pleasure in Castiel’s presence in his hotel room, and he moved a little closer to him. 

“Need me,” Dean said, “Huh. I dunno what you mean, Cas.”

Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean by his shirt-collar. He pulled him close, until there wasn’t enough space left between them for anything but their breath and their heat to exist. 

“You know what I mean, Dean,” Castiel said.

“That rhymed,” Dean chuckled.

Castiel kissed him, rough, taking his laughter into his mouth and forcing his tongue between Dean’s teeth. 

Suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore. 

They didn’t have enough time. Sam would be back any minute with a bag full of greasy burgers and greasier fries and they’d spent the rest of the night talking about the hunt they were working; or Sam would talk about the hunt while Dean reclined on the bed and switched through the channels. Still, Dean couldn’t pull himself back, he couldn’t make himself leave Castiel’s arms or mouth, and he couldn’t keep himself from reaching up to knot his hand in Castiel’s tie. Dean pulled him close, their hips aligned, and he felt the shape of Castiel’s erection against him -- there was nothing he could do after that. 

He wanted him, and he’d have him. 

Dean was gripped tight and turned around. He had a moment of clear vision where he saw -- or thought he saw -- Cas’ lips turned up in a playful smile before he was being thrown across the bed. Castiel crawled in after him, knee between Dean’s thighs, hand hard on the center of Dean’s chest. 

Shit, he could probably feel his heart pounding.

“Your heart is beating fast,” Cas said, eyebrows furrowed. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine,” Dean said. His voice was raspy, a little too raw. He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. Yeah.”

Cas leaned down, brushing his lips over Dean’s jaw and throat. They barely touched Dean’s skin, ghosting over him like Cas was afraid he might break. Dean liked it, more than he should have probably. It was the anticipation of being touched that drove him crazy. Heat spread through his arms and legs, out from his core, down to his cock. Dean groaned, fingers tangling in Cas’ tie again, pulling him closer until his lips weren’t a promise but an oath on his skin. 

Castiel’s knee slipped higher, pressing against Dean’s cock through his jeans. It hurt, but only a little. That pain just made the pleasure better, made it deeper, made it grow teeth in his groin and stomach. 

A bruise formed on Dean’s throat in the shape of Castiel’s teeth. Satisfied with his mark, Castiel moved lower, pulling down the collar of Dean’s shirt to suck and bite Dean’s collarbone. Dean kept his eyes closed, not sure if he wanted to watch, if he wanted to admit to himself how right Castiel looked between his legs, with his mouth on him. If he did that, he’d have to admit that there was no one else he trusted to be there, no one else he’d be so vulnerable with. 

A tongue dragged over Dean’s pulse, following the curve of his jaw to his ear. Castiel’s voice was thicker than usual, warmer than usual, huskier than usual. It flowed like whiskey, hot and strong and so powerful it took Dean’s breath away. “Get undressed,” Castiel whispered. 

Well, hell, Dean respected a guy who didn’t mince words.

He leaned up and shrugged out of his jacket. Cas refused to move back or give him space. He never gave Dean any kind of space, so why should things be different when they were... about to do whatever they were going to do? Castiel seemed impatient -- Dean guessed humans didn’t work as human as the angel was accustomed to up in Heaven -- and he pulled Dean’s t-shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. 

“In a hurry, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Sam won’t be much longer now,” Cas said, “Unless you’d rather I left?”

Dean put his hand at the back of Cas’ head, dragging him down against him chest. His fingers tightened in his hair. He was trembling and he wasn’t sure why, only that he felt good -- better than he’d felt in a long time. His head was clear, sharp, focused. Every little touch of Castiel’s fingers and lips seemed to explode on his skin. 

His hand cupped Dean’s crotch, rougher than Dean was used to. Dean moaned and rocked his hips against Cas’ hand, needing more friction, just needing Cas to stop screwing around and do something about it.

 

“You need me, huh?” Dean asked, “Okay. C’mon then. Have me. I’m all yours. Shit, man, you think I just... let anyone do this to me?”

“No,” Cas whispered, lips inching down Dean’s chest. He sucked and bit his nipples, softly, experimentally, peeking up at Dean to see if he enjoyed it. Dean’s fingers knotted tighter in his hair, his trembling only getting worse. 

Castiel’s tongue slid over Dean’s abs, right over the cluster of freckles on his right hip. Dean arched himself, releasing Castiel’s hair to grip the pillow under his head. Castiel unfastened his jeans, pulling Dean’s belt free, sliding the cold buckle over his chest and stomach before throwing it into the growing pile of Dean’s clothes on the floor. 

He tugged Dean’s pants low on his hips, tongue chasing the downward slide of his waistband. Dean kept his eyes closed, kept his back arched, held his breath. He waited for Castiel to tell him he didn’t know what he was doing, that he had made a mistake, that they needed to stop. He waited for the angel to get cold feet and back out, but when Cas’ hand was wrapped around his cock and his mouth was sucking and tongue slicking over his cockhead, Dean let his breath out in a loud moan. 

Castiel’s fingers curled in over Dean’s hip, his head dropping and raising slowly. He took Dean’s cock to the back of his throat, slipped up to his cockhead to nibble and suck, before dropping back down again. 

It was a steady rhythm, but not one that Dean could get used to. Every time Castiel’s tongue dragged on the underside of his dick, or his teeth caught softly on his cockhead, Dean was wracked with conflicting waves of shivers and overwhelming heat. His breathing was rapid, wheezing, his hips not at all steady like Castiel’s mouth. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered, warned, whatever, “Cas, hmn... ‘M gonna...”

The angel reached up, grabbing Dean’s nipple and pinching roughly as he lowered his throat on Dean’s cock. Dean shuddered, the heat swelling in his stomach and moving lower. He came down Cas’ throat, not even aware of his own shouting until he had calmed down some and felt how sore his throat was. 

Kisses were pressed against the insides of Dean’s thighs, down to the backs of his knees, before they were pressed higher; his hips, his stomach, his chest, his throat. 

His forehead.

“Cas,” Dean murmured. His voice was hoarse, and he was too tired to fight the intimate kisses away or worry about Sam walking in on them. He pressed against Castiel’s throat and felt Cas’ arm curl around his shoulders. 

“I should---” 

Castiel caught Dean by his wrist as his hand moved to Castiel’s crotch. He brought Dean’s hand up, pressing dry, warm kisses on his knuckles. “No,” he said, “I never said that I needed that. Just that I needed you.”

Dean laughed, a little nervously, sure that Cas could see the flush on his face -- and that he would understand it wasn’t just because he came so hard. “Yeah, okay,” Dean said, “That’s... good, then. I mean, not that I don’t want to... That’s good.”

Cas’ lips touched his forehead again; soft and tender. 

“You have me I guess,” Dean said, “Not really sure what the hell I’m doing with you, but that’s nothing new.”

“No,” Castiel said. His lips twitched with a smile. “That’s nothing new.”


End file.
